


(in a world of ordinary mortals) you are a wonder woman

by kadtherine



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Izzy, F/F, Fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort but not too much, aka izzy made a deal with the devil, and kick asses daredevil side, clary and izzy are in love pass it along, climon brotp, clizzy au, frienship, mention of rape?, more like vigilante au, nothing graphic tho, sizzy friendship, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadtherine/pseuds/kadtherine
Summary: Superhero AU, based on the following prompt :"I've had a crush on you for a year and you're secretly a superhero what the heck?? And wow you look great in tights"I've added my own twist to it, though ;)





	(in a world of ordinary mortals) you are a wonder woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galaxymindss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxymindss/gifts).



 

She had stood there, all dressed in black and red lips begging to be kissed. She had smiled at him, looking innocent and coy at the same, and had beckoned him over with a wave of her finger. The alley he had followed her into was too dark for him to notice the golden streak in her eyes or the silver bracelet snaked around her wrist. Flipping her blonde hair to the side, she had leaned against the wall and shoved her hands in his pockets. He had almost tripped on his own feet in his haste to get to her. His small mishap hadn't escaped her notice and the laugh that had escaped her lips had left him wondering about the existence of angels. She had cocked her head to the side, exposing her neck to him and leaving his mouth as she had done so.

 

"You're awfully eager," she had remarked, lifting an elegant eyebrow in amusement. "Do you really think the quicker you get to me, the quicker you'll get to have your way with me? Do I look that easy?"

 

She had pouted at him, her bottom lip between her teeth, and he had gulped before regaining his composure and clearing his throat. Now that he was standing in front of her, he could see her in all of her glory. Her long coat was pushed back, revealing that she was wearing a simple leotard with fishnets and a pair of boots riding up to her knees. His head snapped up at the sound of her chuckle, having noticed him ogling her. He responded with a smirk and took a step forward, lifting a finger to brush against her cheek.

 

"On the contrary, beautiful. I think you need to be worshipped, loved in every way known to mankind."

  
"Really?" she whispered, her eyes flickering to his lips before she suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him to her, their bodies flushed together. "Is that what you say to other girls.

  
Her nails buried themselves in the back of his neck and he couldn't help but hiss. He glared at her and she responded with a grin. He let his hands slip to her waist and pressed himself against her, smirking when she gasped.

  
"What other girls?" he retorted, his fingers digging into her hips.

  
She mimicked his smirk and swung her hips in his hold, earning a grunt from him. His eyes locked with hers, he was oblivious to her bracelet slowly unwrapping itself from her wrist and languishingly making its way around his neck.

 

"Y'know, those other girls you've followed into similar dark alleys, the ones who've begged for their lives and whom you've ignored."

 

He frowned, leaning back from her so he could see her face and as he was about to ask about what the fuck was she talking back, he found himself unable to breathe. Bringing his hand to his neck, his frown deepened when his fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. He looked back at her, hoping that she would help with his predicaments but she grinned down at him, her smile almost feral. She took a step forward and he backed away, clawing at the rope tightening around his neck. He could heard something hiss in his ear and he whimpered. He opened his mouth to yell for help but the only sound that came - a choking noise that horrified him when he realized it was coming from him. Her head cocked to the side, she raised her hand to brush past locks of hair that fell over his eyes and he flinched back, falling to his knees.

  
She bent down, her hands on her knees and blonde hair falling over her face.

  
"I don't hear you begging for your life yet," she whispered, the amusement in her voice sending shivers down his spine.

  
She gave a small wave and click of her tongue and he could feel the tightness around his neck loosen. He took a large intake of air - sweet, delicious air - and ended up coughing in his haste. He slipped two fingers under the rope and winced when he brushed a sore spot. He took another breath and this time his lungs gracefully accepted it. He lifted his head, glowering at his still-grinning assailant, and two words left his mouth.

  
"Psyc-chotic b-bitch."

  
The effort left him wheezing and coughing but it was worth it, seeing as her grin had vanished along with the mirth in her eyes. Satisfaction gave way to weariness when he caught sight of her eyes. Her previous brown and warm gaze had been replaced by a pair of shining, golden cat-like slits - or maybe it had been a vision caused by his lack of oxygen. She grabbed the other end of the rope and cracked it, sending him rolling down the alley.

 

"I really hate that word," she growled, her rope-whip thingy wrapping itself around her shoulder.

 

He slowly got to his knees, the slow sound of her high heels menacing as she casually sauntered to him, like a hunter going to collect his prey. He forced himself to his feet and wobbled out of the alley, leaning against the dirty walls as he propelled himself forward and started running. His chest burned with each breath he took but he didn't pay much mind to it, focusing on getting away from her. He didn't let the thick New York crowd stop his race, elbowing his way through it, shouldering clueless tourists and pushing annoying cosplayers to the ground. Wheezing, he got out of the filled streets and came to a dead end. Swallowing a whimper, he racked his fingers through his hair and looked for an escape, a way to climb over the wall blocking his way.

  
"Well, well, well," he startled at the sound of her voice, reaching for the knife tucked in his waistband as he turned around. "Look like we've got ourselves a standoff."

 

"Stay away!" He pointed his weapon toward her, his hand shaking.

 

"Aw, you've brought your own butter knife," she chuckled, her head tilted to the side as she reached for the end of her whip, "cute."

 

With one swift motion, she cracked the weapon, barely even wincing at the thunder-like sound. He couldn't help but gap at the now straight staff she was twirling expertly in her hands before adopting a fighting stance.

  
"Now, let's have some fun."

  
Without warning, she swung her staff around, aiming for his gut. He had to jump backward, nearly crashing back into the ground. She blew a curl off her face, a mocking chuckle escaping her lips as she twirled the baton between her hands. Tightening the hold around his knife, he regained his balance and jumped forward with a snarl. She easily dodged him, blocking the weapon and pushing it to the side. He kept his footing, pushing against her with a groan. Keeping her staff up, she kicked his knee. Hard. Swallowing a howl of pain, he shifted his weight onto his other leg, looking back up with a snarl. She twirled her staff again, holding it behind her back with a smirk.

  
"Ready to beg yet?"

  
There. He could barely restrain a delirious laugh at her overconfidence. Right there, a voice kept nagging at the back of his mind. He had been so busy looking for an opening, a fail in the armor and all he needed to do was wait. Her staff behind her back, the left side of her body was completely exposed. He looked up at her, biting the inside of his cheek to stop a wide smile from spreading on his face.

  
"Not quite."

  
He barely had the time to register her brief expression of shock and confusion before he slashed his knife, slicing through her coat and flesh. He reveled in her cry of pain, blood spluttering on the dirty gravel. Before she could have the time to recover, he grabbed her shoulder and sent her crashing against the stone wall. Her staff cluttered to the ground as she slid down the wall, as limp as a rag doll. Smirking, he lazily made his way to her crumpled form, his foot on her staff. She lifted her head with a groan, grimacing when she touched her forehead. Her fingers came back red with blood.

  
"Ow," she hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes gaining that strange golden glow again as she glared up at him.

  
They didn't change back to brown, though, which unnerved him. She gave a click of her tongue and the staff beneath his feet went limp, transforming back into its original form. The snake-like object went to wrap itself around his ankles, making it impossible for him to move. He tried to struggle against it, gasping in pain when the whip tightened around his ankles, cutting of his blood circulation. He looked back up to find her getting back to her feet, a smirk on her face and completely unbothered by her bloody temple. She pulled on her whip, getting him to fall on his back, and knocked the breath out of him. He coughed, attempting to roll on his side, only to whimper when her heeled foot kept him on his back, pressing into his chest. He recoiled at the loud noise following the crack of her whip and swallowed a cry when the pointy end of her staff came to rest against his neck.

  
"How about now?"

  
He felt the point dig into his flesh and gave a small, almost non-existent nod. He let out a cry of relief when she swung her weapon away from his neck and behind her back.

  
"Who the hell are you, lady?" He croaked when her foot lifted from his chest.

  
Sweeping her hair behind her shoulder, she gave him a charming grin and cocked an eyebrow at him as she crouched down to be eye-level with him.

 

"I'm the Justice you can't run from."

 

He didn't have the time to understand her words, nor did he have the time to process her fist before it hit the side of his head, darkness overcoming him

 

* * *

 

 

"Alright, _Black Canary_ ," Simon's voice rang in her ear, statics crackling as he opened the comm link, "rein in the melodramatics."

 

  
Isabelle chuckled as she ran her fingers through her hair. A simple touch to her staff reduced it to its limp, snake-like state. She reached for her back-pocket, the whip wrapping itself around her wrist and forearm as she drew a lipstick out of her pocket.

 

  
"What can I say, I guess you've been a bad influence on me," she mumbled as she uncapped it and drew a red X across his forehead.

 

  
"Pretty sure it's the other way around," Simon snorted, his words followed by the loud clicks of his keyboard. "Anyway, I think it's about time you vanish, _Dark Knight_ -style. You've got cops closing on your location."

 

  
"Copy that," Isabelle clicked off the comm, pocketing the lipstick before she got back to her feet.

 

  
She popped up her hood, wincing when it made contact with the open wound on the side of her head. Red and blue lights flashed against the alley's dark walls and Isabelle tightened her jacket around herself, slowly backing away and melting into the shadows.

  
  


* * *

 

  
Isabelle didn't remember much of the incident.

 

  
Isabelle didn't remember much of her death.

 

  
She just remembered opening her eyes with a gasp, hanging upside down in her car. Her left arm had been broken and her shoulder dislocated - she remembered the excruciating pain that went through her entire arm each time her fingers would brush the ceiling. Max had been beside her, unconscious and unmoving. She remembered calling his name, panic lacing her voice as she had tried to reach for his wrist and feel for his pulse. Isabelle had called for help, screamed and cried until her voice had been hoarse. She had, then, heard the broken glass crushing under footsteps, putting a momentary end to her panic.

 

 

"Help!" Isabelle had hit the ceiling with her good hand, trying to get the attention of whoever was outside. "Please, is there someone there? I need help, I'm stuck and my brother-"

 

  
Her little brother had been unconscious and his chest alarmingly still, no breath coming through his lips or out of his nose as far she had been able to see. Isabelle had tasted the salt of her tears, only realizing at that moment that she had been crying. She remembered catching sight of polished dark shoes and a hand stretched out the window. Isabelle had reached for it, her confusion overcoming her panic and fear as she had been pulled out and gently pulled to her feet. Isabelle remembered being mesmerized by the Tall Figure in front of her, cradling her arm to her chest while staring at the person in front. He had been wearing a three-piece suit and hadn't been bothered by the heat as He had stood there, staring back at her with a grin on His face. Grin that had been too wide. Grin that Isabelle would have noticed as unnatural if she hadn't been in a frenzy or relieved for the first face she'd seen in hours. He had looked over her shoulder and her heart had skipped a bit at the sight of His frown - if she hadn't been so focused on it, maybe she would have noticed the way His grin had widened for a second.

 

  
"He doesn't look good," he had stated, his fake concern masking something else.

 

  
The simple statement had managed to rip a hysterical laugh out of Isabelle, laugh that had quickly turned into sobs, her entire body trembling. He had put a hand on her shoulder, given it a squeeze and assured her with a steady voice and steel, piercing eyes. "I can help him."

 

  
"Can you, really?" Isabelle had choked out, at this point ready to sink to her knees and pray to whatever entity in exchange for her baby brother's wellbeing. Clearly, she should've known better.

 

  
"I can," He had repeated, letting His hand fall off her shoulder and holding it in front of her, as if ready to strike a deal, "but I need to know something first, Isabelle. Actually, I need a confession from you." He had smiled at that, as if amused.

 

  
"A confession?" She had frowned, more confused by his wording that by the fact that He had seemed to know her name.

 

  
"Yes, I need to know... What are you willing to do to save your brother's life?"

 

  
The hand that had fallen into His had been still and as she spoke, her voice had been sure, driven.

 

"Anything."

  
Isabelle hadn't remembered much after that - bits and pieces had eventually came back to her. She had been found on the side of the road, with a few scrapes and without a broken bone in her body - despite the fact that, according to her medical chart, she had gone through the windshield. Max had regained consciousness, whining about the supposedly unnecessary amount of paramedics surrounding him. And Isabelle had cried, waving away the concerned paramedic as she had practically run to her brother's side. When she had looked for the Man - to naively offer Him her gratitude - He had been nowhere to be found. She hadn't paid much mind to it, surely He was a Good Samaritan who had sought to do a good deed left without having an ulterior motive in mind.

  
Again, Isabelle should've known better. She should've remembered the stories her religious abuelita had told her and the warning she had given them. Isabelle should've remembered they had always described the Devil as charming.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"This is disgusting."

  
Isabelle restrained the urge to roll her eyes at Simon's remark and focused on getting every piece of gravel out of her wound. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Simon dramatically gag before he turned away from her and toward his computers. Never had she thought that Simon would be the first one to find out about her special abilities - him finding her bleeding and clad in her * _Huntress_ * outfit on his doorstep had been a major stepping stone in their relationship. When recovered from his shock, Simon had dragged her into his apartment and worked on her wounds, following her mumbled instructions with a grey-ashen face. His sewing didn't hold a candle to hers, but it had been enough to keep her insides where they were supposed to be. * _Inside_ * her body. Still, the amount of blood had been enough to deter him from dealing with her stitching and other blood wounds, choosing to stay by her bedside and wake up every hour so her concussion wouldn't be her demise - even though she had assured him that she couldn't die. She didn't know if Simon had chosen to ignore her for his own sake or if he hadn't indulged her in her delusion. When she had woken up, confused about her surroundings, Simon had forced an earpiece and told her that, **_'no matter how badass she was, there was no way he was letting her in the streets without back-up'._** Simon had, then, chosen to adopt the role of her own tech expert and kept an ear on the police scanners and an eye on the crime in the city, having Isabelle's back whenever she was out in the streets. Her nerdy sidekick, he had said with a cheesy salute and sheepish grin. Isabelle hadn't had much choice but to accept the help with a tired smile.

 

  
Isabelle dropped the pliers on a platter and grabbed a couple of cotton dabs, biting back a wince when she dabbed the side of her head. She smiled when Simon put a mug of tea beside her, drawing her attention away from the round mirror to mouth a * _thank you_ * to him. Simon nodded to her in response, leaning against the table and away from the bloody pieces of gravel.

  
"Rough night?" Simon inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

  
"You could say that," Isabelle retorted, frowning at her wound before she threw the cotton away. "But, then again, they're all rough."

  
He hummed at that, taking a sip of his own drink. He grimaced when Isabelle grabbed the needle off her platter and pulled the string through its hole, pushing her hair to the side.

  
"Aren't you supposed to have a super-healing factor? Y'know, like Wolverine or some shit?"

  
This time, Isabelle rolled her eyes, unflinching as she passed the needle through her skin, pulling at it to make sure her stitches would be tight enough.

  
"Can't exactly walk out with a gaping, bleeding hole on the side of my head," Isabelle deadpanned, frowning at her reflection as she quickly closed the wound with expert fingers. "Would you rather I glued it together * _Blade Runner_ * style?"

  
Simon choked on his coffee, cursing under his breath when brown liquid leaked from his mouth and stained his white shirt. Isabelle snickered and he threw her a glare over his glasses.

 

  
"I hate you, y'know," Simon mumbled, wetting a towel and scrubbing at the stain on his shirt.

 

  
"Don't lie, Lewis." Isabelle stuck two butterfly stitches to the extremity of her wound, cutting off the thread. "You adore me."

 

  
Isabelle snapped off her gloves and threw them alongside the rest of the used utilities. She stretched her arms over her head, rising on her toes and arching her back with her hands joined above her head. She let out a groan when both of her shoulders popped before she fell back to the soles of her feet, wiggling her toes and cracking her knuckles. Isabelle smothered a laugh at the grimace plastered on Simon's face, the latter flinching at each loud crack. Isabelle yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she felt into the couch and downed the rest of her tea.

 

  
"Do you think I've got the time to take a shower and a nap before going out to meet Clary?" Isabelle ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing when coming across a knot. "Can't meet her with my hair caked in blood," she muttered to herself.

 

  
"Depends, what time did you set your date?" Simon frowned down at his watch.

 

  
"10, and it isn't a date. It's a study...date, which has nothing to do with my question," Isabelle corrected, tucking her hair between her ear and hoping that her face wasn't as warm as it felt.

 

  
Simon smirked, "I've talked to Clary, seeing as she is, y'know, my best friend."

  
Isabelle rolled her eyes, swallowing the growl that had been building up in her throat. She blinked a few times before taking her phone out of her back pocket, a smile stretching on her face at the sight of her screensaver. Her own grinning face stared back at her, the redhead in question on her back, legs around Isabelle's waist, arms held up and head tilted to the side as she stuck her tongue out at the photographer. She pursed her lips, rubbing the back of her neck while lost in her thoughts. Simon loudly coughing broke her out of her trance, her smile melting into a scowl when she caught sight of his widening smirk. She let out a growl this time, her eyes shining gold for a minute and causing Simon to flinch back. Isabelle snickered, her eyes turning back to their original brown. She looked down at her phone, this time focusing on the hour - 7:05 - before she locked the device and turned it face down on the table. While she barely had three hours before she was supposed to meet Clary, Isabelle hoped that the shower would suffice to keep her awake. If not, she hoped she would have at least an hour to catch up on her lost sleep.

 

  
"If anyone calls, I'll be in the shower," she informed him, walking down the hallway.

 

  
"Alright, I'll be sure to tell Clary," he hollered at her, his tone back to his previous smugness.

 

  
Isabelle didn't let it deter her as she threw a middle finger over her head while continuing her way to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Isabelle didn't make it to the study date, though, sleeping through her alarms and Clary's four missed calls. She woke up at noon. Isabelle had jumped out of Simon's bed, startled by Clary's fifth upcoming call. She had been halfway through brushing her hair, her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she mumbled apologies into the phone, before Clary had let her off with a laugh and offered for them to postpone their study date - Isabelle's heartbeat didn't quicken at that, nor do any somersaults at the word. Isabelle had deflated and sunk down to Simon's bathroom floor, hoping that Clary wouldn't be able to hear her disappointment as she had assured her that it was fine. Clary had then made her promise to meet her later that evening before hanging up on her. Isabelle hadn't been able to blame Simon for not waking her up or vent her frustration to him, the latter having left the flat - she had smiled when seeing the note stuck to the plate of pancakes Simon had fixed her before leaving for classes. At least she had been able to stay in her pajamas and laze on his couch, in front of the TV.

  
She should've known, though. She should've known that it was only the calm before the figurative storm. Simon had still been out, surely starting his first shift at the Hunter's Moon when the police radio had gone off. She hadn't been allowed to wait for him or even send him a text - time was of precious essence and easily wasted. Therefore, Isabelle decided to use it and change into her outfit, her bracelet tightening around her wrist. Isabelle barely thought as she climbed on her bike, transmissions blaring in the earbud she had hastily shoved in her ear.

  
_Grocery robbery currently going on in Queens. Civilian hostages inside._

 

 

**Estimated number of robbers?**

 

_5_

 

**Were they armed ?**

 

_Yes_

  
She quickly parked her bike to the side of the grocery store, keeping out of sight as she jumped onto a closed trash bin and climbed onto the shop's roof. Isabelle crouched down and crawled to the glass window, peering inside. They weren't five but four and their weapons varied from baseball bats to guns. The hostages had been forced to sit down, the hands behind their back while three of the robbers paced in front of them, trying to look menacing. The fourth one held a gun to the cashier's head while the latter busied himself with filling bags with money.

  
Isabelle felt her bracelet slide into her hand, unravelling from her wrist with a hiss. With a loud crack - she had to smother a laugh when by-standers looked up to the sky, as if expecting rain - the whip took its solid staff form. Using the end of her staff, she broke off the lock and slid the window open, placing her weapon to her back as she slid down into the shop. Isabelle fell in a crouch, the clicking of her heels alerting the others to her presence. Lifting her head, she grinned when catching sight of the bewildered gazes of robbers and hostages again. Isabelle grabbed her staff and gave it a twirl as she slowly rose, her head tilted to the side.

  
"Hiya, boys," she greeted, cocking an eyebrow. "Having a party without me?"

  
That seemed to break them out of their trance. The one closer to her snarled before coming to her with his bat held high. Isabelle countered the attack with a swift hit in the gut before her staff slapped his bat out of his hand. She barely thought when catching sight of the second robber training her gun on her, using the first offender as her shield. Isabelle didn't flinch as the first bullet went through his leg. She ignored the alarmed scream of an old woman when the second grazed his shoulder, nor did she blink when the third bullet hit his gut. Isabelle smirked though when the clicking sound of an empty magazine rang through the shop, her human shield slipping to the floor with a whimper. She stepped over his body and with one simple twirl, knocked the weapon out of his hands before ramming the end of her staff in his face, her smirk widening at the loud * _crack_ *. Isabelle restrained a wince at the screaming in her ear - ** _*shots fired! Shots fired!*_** \- and focused her attention on the third offender, oblivious to the cops closing in on her, weapons forward as they made their way toward the door. She barely registered the hostages being filed out - with the exception of the cashier - as her third opponent raised his bat with trembling hands. Isabelle shook her head in mock disappointment.

  
_Idiot_.

  
Isabelle felt her weapon go limp between her fingers before she sent it around his neck, pulling on it and knocking his head against her knee. Too wrapped in her own adrenaline, Isabelle didn't register the bullet that grazed her side until a second one buried itself in her stomach.

 

  
Uh. Isabelle had never been shot before. Stabbed. Strangled. Knocked unconscious. All of the above. At least she got to add it to her list. Letting out a gasp, she stumbled back, her wide eyes shifting from brown to gold as she blinked at the fourth and last robber, the barrel of his gun smoking and the expression on his face smug. Isabelle took another step backward, her heel slipping on something. Isabelle frowned, her eyes sliding down to the small pool of blood forming beneath her feet. *Her* blood. She swallowed the bile that risen up her throat, pressing a hand against her stomach. Isabelle did flinch as she heard the third crack of a bullet tear through the air. She swallowed a sob of relief when she saw the fourth robber drop to his knees, clutching his hand to his chest as cops closed in on him, escorting the trembling cashier out of his store. Three Kevlar-wearing officers trained their guns on her and Isabelle felt the bile rise up her throat again.

 

  
"Drop your weapon and keep your hands where I can see them!" 

 

If Simon rambling to her about Spider-Man had taught her something, it was that cops weren't too fond of vigilantes. They downright despised them when said vigilantes tended to leave a trail of bodies in their wake. Isabelle stared back at him, her gaze drifting up to the open window, then falling onto the aisle beside her and its empty counter. Isabelle plastered a smirk on her face and threw the officer a wink before jumping onto the shelf and propelling herself through the window and on the roof. Her wound protested at the sudden action and her head throbbed as screams exploded in her ear. Time was precious and she couldn't afford to waste it. Adrenaline kicking in, she slid down the roof and fell onto the trashcan with a crash. Swearing under her breath, Isabelle jumped onto her bike, almost breaking into tears when it took two tries for the motor to come alive. She didn't need to look behind her to know that she had at least three police cars on her ass. For once, Isabelle was thankful for the thick New York traffic, swerving between vehicles and driving through red lights - her getting a contravention was the least of her worries at the moment.

 

  
It took her an hour to shake them off her tail. She left her bike behind an abandoned warehouse five minutes away from Simon's apartment complex. She kicked the licence plate breaking it off the bike before throwing into the Hudson. It took her ten minutes to remember what building housed Simon's flat. Isabelle hoped she didn't leave any blood in the elevators, her hand digging into her stomach as she stumbled toward Simon's door - 3B. He had a tendency to leave his door unlocked - for her benefit, of that she was aware - and Isabelle was too happy to find his complete lack of good sense when she pushed the door open. She almost started sobbing when entering the familiar and warm apartment she came to consider as her safe haven. She didn't, though. Instead, Isabelle froze and stared at the familiar redhead standing in front of her. Clary's green eyes were wide and shining with fear instead of its usual mischief and joy she had come to adore. Simon was nowhere in sight but she could hear someone shuffling around the kitchen and knew it was only a matter of time before he joined Clary. Clary, who was still staring at her, tears threatening to fall and roll down her cheeks as she took in her attire and bloody hand. Isabelle couldn't hold her stare any longer and looked over her shoulder into the living room where calculators and stats textbooks were littered on the coffee table. Isabelle's gaze fell back onto Clary.

  
"Sorry I'm late," were the last words that left her lips before she let herself slip to the floor, Clary's horrified call for help being the only thing that she heard before she gave in to oblivion.

 

* * *

 

 

Consciousness came in pieces and didn't last for long. Isabelle briefly remembered Simon fretting over her, his hands pressed against her wound while giving a list of orders to Clary, the latter breathing heavily. His tone had been surprisingly calm - flat - considering his hands and forearms were covered in blood. Her blood. Yet again, Isabelle wasn't sure it hadn't been a dream. The second time Isabelle woke up - or at least, thought she woke up, she heard crying. She wasn't sure if it had been Simon or Clary - yet again, she hadn't been sure it wasn't all a dream - but her heart tore in two and her fingers twitched, aching to grab a hand, to caress a cheek, to give a reassuring touch. Isabelle tried to make a sound - the lowest whimper would've been enough - but her throat was dry and her lips sealed shut. She didn't have any other choice but to give in to the darkness again.

 

  
The third time, Isabelle didn't have any doubt she was awake - her body ached all over, her head was pounding and the heavy smell of bleach made her want to puke. The dumb idiom **_'third time's a charm_** ' rang in her head and had she been able to, Isabelle would've rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. She regretted opening them as soon as a flare of light blinded her. She let out a low growl, squeezing her eyes shut again. She tried to raise a hand to rub them, but her arm felt too heavy by her side and Isabelle couldn't find it in her to lift a single finger. She frowned as she heard a scratching sound to her left. Against her better judgement, Isabelle dared to crack an eye open, slowly turning her head. And Isabelle reconsidered the theory of dreams - entertained the idea that she died for a brief second, because next to her was an angel. A vision in white, surrounded by a fiery halo. She blinked both of her eyes and her vision cleared. And the angel turned into Clary - not that much had to change for that. The younger girl was sitting, her legs crossed on Simon's worn-out couch, bent over her sketchbook as she drew. Clary had apparently traded her denim overalls with a _Star Wars_ shirt for a white dress - Isabelle's dress - with long sleeves and nude shoulders, red roses sewn onto the hem.

 

  
Isabelle had always liked watching Clary draw, staring at the wrinkle between her eyes as she concentrated. She couldn't help but stare at her lips, slightly amused - slightly aroused - as she caught sight of her tongue peeking out of her mouth, the girl too lost in her drawings to pay attention to the rest of the world. Isabelle would always find herself staring at her. At her long fingers, rubbing charcoal against a blank, white canvas. At her cheeks, smeared with paint and charcoal and at her wide green eyes whenever Isabelle would remark on the stains. She'd laugh, the sound like chiming bells and her green eyes so vibrant, whenever Isabelle would say, a fake pout plastered on her face, that it did nothing to her good looks - unfairly so. Isabelle would be the one to laugh when she scrunched up her nose, wiggling it as if she were a bunny. Isabelle felt a smile stretch across her lips as Clary rubbed her nose, leaving a dark stain on it.

 

 

 _* **She’s beautiful**_ ***** , Isabelle thought to herself, licking her cracked, dry lips.

 

  
The words on the tip of her tongue, Isabelle opened her mouth. And coughed. Startled by the sudden noise, Clary looked up and met her eyes, her own wider than usual. She blinked at her a couple of times, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips, before she suddenly jumped off the couch, disregarding her sketchbook and rushing into the kitchen. Clary reappeared, barely a minute later, a tall glass of water in her hands. Isabelle flashed her a grateful smile and tried to push herself into a sitting position, grimacing as the sudden movement pulled at her stitches. Clary put a hand on the small of her back, helping her stay upright while her other hand held the glass at her lips. Isabelle wrapped both of her hands around Clary's, as if afraid the latter would pull the glass away from her grasp. She let out a low moan when the cold drink soothed down her throat. Isabelle swallowed a whimper when the glass was gently plucked out of her grasp. Clary's smile widened, tears building in her eyes as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind Isabelle's ear, her hand lingering on her cheek. Isabelle leaned into the touch.

  
"Hi," she croaked out.

 

"Hey yourself," Clary returned with a teary laugh, her thumb caressing her cheek.

 

  
Isabelle frowned when Clary took her hand away, running her fingers through her hair. She restrained the urge to roll her shoulders or crack, trying to sit as straight as she could. Tearing her eyes away from Clary, Isabelle took a look around the small apartment. It was immaculate, tidy - almost as if she hadn't been bleeding at his front door hours ago. They had lit a candle, probably to either cover the smell of blood or the overwhelming sent of bleach. Either way, it didn't do its job. Her eyes falling back onto the couch, Isabelle frowned when noticing the lump leaning against the other armrest. It took her a bit longer to recognize Simon, the latter - figuratively - dead to the world and bundled in covers. His chest rose up and down as he breathed, tightening his hold around the blankets, his tousled hair peeking out and his mouth slightly agape. Isabelle smiled at the sight, yearning to run her fingers through his black curls.

 

  
"He's been up all night," Clary remarked, having followed her gaze to her sleeping best friend. "He crashed an hour ago, I think." She reached over and patted his hair down, her fingers lingering at the side of her face.

 

  
Isabelle hummed, swallowing a laugh when Simon mumbled in his sleep, turning away from Clary's touch before falling silent again. Isabelle frowned when her eyes fell on Simon's buzzing phone by his side. As if noticing the object of her staring, Clary grabbed the device before it could wake him up and handed it to her without a word. Isabelle swiped away the notifications without a care, her focus on the clock app - **4.07 PM.**

 

  
"Wait," Isabelle pushed back her hair and looked up at Clary, "how long have I been asleep?"

 

  
Asleep was an understatement. Isabelle didn't want to use any other word, though. Others would be reminiscent of bad memories and wouldn't do any good. Clary didn't pick up on it - or she simply chose to ignore it - as she cleared her throat and scratched the back of her head.

 

  
"Almost a day."

 

  
"What?" Isabelle shrieked, wincing at the sound as it left her lips.

 

  
"Don't worry, I spoke to your professors and warned them that you'd take a day or two off."

  
"That really isn't necessary," Isabelle slowly swung her legs to the side, her bare feet hitting the carpeted floor.

 

  
It was only then she noticed that she'd been lying on Simon's coffee table and using it as a makeshift medical cot. Isabelle made a mental note to replace it at a later date. Isabelle really didn't need to take a day off - whether it was from college or patrolling. She couldn't afford to. She'd pop a few painkillers, take a hot shower and be as good as new - as long as she didn't overdo it. The benefits of making deals with the Devil made it that a bullet to the gut was as harmless as a papercut. A hurtful papercut, but not life-threatening nevertheless.

 

  
"Simon warned me you would say that." Clary let out a small laugh, pushing her hair to the side.

 

  
Isabelle wished Simon was awake at the moment. As she watched Clary nervously rub her hands on her lap, she wished she knew what Simon had told her in the midst of stitching him up. Seeing the slightly amused smirk plastered on the redhead's face, Isabelle assumed he hadn't told she had willingly given her soul to the Devil.

 

  
"Sooo...," Isabelle drawled out the small word, crossing her ankles.

  
"Sooo...," Clary repeated, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward, "You're the Huntress."

  
Isabelle gave a small, noncommittal nod, trying to ignore the lump forming in her throat. The Huntress had been New York's most talked about subject. She had heard students talk about it as she walked across campus, debating if she was a hero or just some regular psycho with irregular abilities. Max would send her blurry photos of herself, trying to include her in the debate. Debate that would get quickly shut down. Eventually, Clary had managed to include her in the discourse. Discourse that would escalate whenever they'd have lunch with Luke - Clary's NYPD detective of a stepfather. Snapping out of her thoughts, Isabelle returned her attention to Clary, the latter staring intently at her, as if she was remembering all of the previous lies and lame excuses Isabelle had given her in the last six months.

 

  
"I get that it's a lot to process-", she started, restraining the urge to pull her ankle up.

 

  
"That's an understatement," Clary interrupted with a snort. And just like that, the lump in Isabelle's throat was replaced with her heart, "I mean, the girl I've been crushing on for a year turns out to be superhero-"

 

  
And just like that, Isabelle was completely deaf. She had been bracing herself for Clary to lay it on her, merciless, before she'd walk out of the flat - out of her life. Isabelle hadn't expected the girl she was falling in love with to confess a crush.

 

  
"You've got a crush on me?" Isabelle voiced her thoughts in a whisper. Somehow, it was enough to cut through Clary's nervous rant.

 

  
She was able to pinpoint the moment the redhead processed her own words, her green eyes widening and her fingers twitching. She let out a breathy, humorless chuckle, squeezed her eyes shut and scratched the back of her head.

 

 

"That-hum... That wasn't supposed to come out."

 

  
Isabelle pursed her lips, stifling a grin as she watched Clary mumble to herself, twisting her fingers together. She cleared her throat, plastering a frown on her face when Clary looked up at her. She mimicked Isabelle's frown when the latter crooked a finger at her, gesturing for her to come closer. Isabelle smothered down a smirk when Clary let out a shaky breath.

 

  
"You've got something right... There," Isabelle leaned forward, her finger wiping the length of Clary's nose. "You always manage to put something on your nose. Drives me nuts," she whispered with a smirk.

 

  
"Not as nuts as you're currently driving me," Clary retorted, her eyes flicking down to her lips.

 

  
Isabelle's laugh was swallowed by Clary's lips crashing against hers. It didn't take long for the latter to return it, her lips pushing against hers and her hands cradling her face. Isabelle bit down on her lower lip, slipping her tongue into Clary's gaping mouth and smirking at the latter's gasp. She hissed when Clary's nails dug into her neck in retaliation, scowling at the redhead's smug smile as she pulled back.

 

  
"Jesus," Simon groaned, startling both of them, "not that I'm not happy that you've managed to pull your shit together - God Bless, Hallelujah - but I swear that if you tear your stitches, I'll let you bleed on the carpet without blinking."

 

  
Isabelle scoffed while Clary let out a small laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smirked when noticing the red tips of her ears before focusing her attention on Simon, the latter rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a grimace plastered on his face.

 

  
"Oh please, as if. You find blood off-putting. Plus, you love me too much for that to happen. I thought we already had this discussion, Lewis."

  
"Debatable," Simon grumbled, draping his blankets around his body before taking his leave from the living room with a two-finger salute.

 

  
Isabelle turned back to Clary and cocked an eyebrow at her, the latter smiling back at her. She stepped back into her embrace, her arms going around Isabelle's neck as she wrapped her arms around the redhead's narrow waist.

  
"You know what else drives me nuts?" Clary tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowed in mock confusion.

 

  
"What?"

 

"Those snug leather pants of yours. I mean, damn," Clary lifted both of her eyebrows to emphasize her point, "They look really good on you."

 

  
Isabelle snorted, shaking her head at Clary's waggling eyebrows, and squeezed her waist.

 

  
"Thanks for remarking on that."

 

  
Clary grinned at her, giving her lips a quick peck before pulling back.

 

  
"My pleasure."

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a lot of fun working on this and am satisfied with the outcome ! thank you to Claire, aka sunshinerosende, for being the sweetest and most amazing beta to work. hope you like. Happy holidays :)


End file.
